


Dirge

by FurrySaint



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Gen, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FurrySaint/pseuds/FurrySaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small, sad Kristoff piece based on some tumblr prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirge

 

He pulled the sled alone.

Through the forest he went. Past the snow-covered trees, and the icy ponds. Over the hills, and through the valleys.

It was deep winter, but a normal winter. This first one after the Thaw. Some had wondered if it would come as normal, or worse, or not at all. But it came as all the winters had before. Covering the world in white.

But his eyes were not on the beauty around him. They were on the path before him. A path only he could see. A path only he could walk.

He paused and shifted the harness around his shoulders, settling it into a more comfortable position before leaning forward and digging his feet into the snow to get the sled restarted down the path...

* * *

Anna had offered one of the horses from the stables to pull the sled, but he would have none of it. No one and nothing would pull the sled except him. She had protested, saying it was impossible for him to pull the sled alone, but the Queen had simply lain a hand on her shoulder, and gestured with her free hand. Blue-white snow-sparks flowed from her fingers to the sled, coating the rails with a thin layer of magical ice. Enough to make it easy to move, but not so much that it would slide randomly. Kristoff had thanked her, then kissed Anna goodbye before strapping the harness around himself, and beginning his journey.

* * *

He had been pulling the sled for two days. Two days for a trip that would normally have taken half of one. Two days of clear skies and biting wind. Two days when even the wolves had left him alone. Though he had seen the glow of their eyes in the campfire at night, they had not approached. He had kept his axe at the ready anyway.

He had not slept well.

He had passed word to the other icemen, and they had made the preparations for him. As the sun was setting on the second day, he rounded a hill and saw the longboat waiting in a small cove. It was tied fore and aft to two trees so it would not drift with the current that kept the cove ice-free. There was also a large ramp leading up to the boat.

He stopped before the ramp, and unbuckled the harness, letting it drop to the ground. Without looking back, he walked up the ramp, and inspected the longboat. As it had not snowed, there was none on the boat. He made sure the tinder was where it needed to be, and still dry, and that the sail was functional. Satisfied that all was in order, he went back down the ramp, and grabbed the harness for the last time. He paused a minute after he buckled it on, then he clenched his hands tight around it before pulling the sled up the ramp. Once on the boat, he tied the straps to the mast, and pushed the rear of the sled around, so it was facing toward the front of the boat. Taking several coils of rope from the front seat, he used them to make sure the sled was secure in the boat, and would not slide.

He tossed his sleeping roll back down the ramp, and picked up his lute, glancing in the back of the sled.

He stopped. The hand holding the lute was stuck in midair.

He didn't want to stop.

He didn't want to see.

He didn't want to think.

He didn't want to feel.

The sound of the wood of the lute groaning under his tightening grip broke the spell. With a jerk, he finished picking it up. Then he looked back. He lay his hand on the wool-enshrouded figure in the back of the sled, then looked at the half-dozen baskets of carrots surrounding it. His friend would never be hungry.

Using a torch, he lit the tinder around the boat, before dropping the sled's lantern under the sled and dropping the torch on the oil. Making his way quickly down the ramp, he cut the fore, then aft ropes securing the boat to the shore, and watched as the current pulled it away.

As the flames licked higher, Kristoff dropped down to sit against the base of a tree, leaning back against it. Pulling off his mittens he began strumming his lute...

"Reindeers are better than people Sven, don't you think that's true?" He switched voices out of long practice.

_"Yeah, people will beat you and curse you and cheat you! Every one of them's bad except you!"_

He stopped playing and swallowed hard. He looked at his hand and clenched his fist until his fingers stopped trembling. Finally, he started playing again.

"But people smell better than reindeers. Sven, don't you think I'm right?" He switched voices again, but had a hard time keeping it.

 _"That's once again true, for all...except...you..."_  He dropped back to his normal voice, but it was hoarse, and breaking.

"You got me, let's...call it...a...night..." The lute dropped from his hands. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tight around his legs. Tears blurred his vision as he watched his friend leave him.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt came from these sad-inducing people. http://probablefox.tumblr.com/post/82700069799/counterpunches-rowanwould-counterpunches


End file.
